


Witchy Woman

by Swanqueeniest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/F, slight BDSM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanqueeniest/pseuds/Swanqueeniest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Minerva McGonagall, arguably the most gorgeous doctor of theoretical physics, is once again in over her beautiful head. Meanwhile, Hermione has allowed her dear friend Harry to talk her into one of his notorious schemes. Mayhem ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Manic Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review! This is my first fic, however I'm obsessed with this pairing and I had to give 'er a go. All mistakes are mine, and of course I don't own any of these characters. God only knows I'm only going to ride them hard, and put them away wet.

"I already told you, Harry, I don't do private shows.”  


Hermione gave her best mate a stern look as she crossed her arms, trying to get her message across to the hard headed young man.  


“Heeeerrrmmmiiiooonnneee! You know Snape would never ask you to do something you didn't want to, but he's been on my ass about how much you could make if you did just a few shows a week!”  


“Oh really? Is that the only reason he was on your ass?” At least Harry had the grace to blush at what she was implying. He turned red from his throat all the way up to the, artificially pink, roots of his hair.  


“You know I didn't mean it like THAT,” he pouted, “Besides, what Sev and I do is none of your goddamned business.”  


Hermione just shook her head and mumbled, “I knew the two of you were in the bathroom for a suspiciously long time.”  


“What's that, Mione?”  


“Oh, nothing, Harry. I'll...think about it, okay? Have Snape keep an eye out for a good client. Someone not too pushy. God only knows I don't have anything better to do with my life.”  


Hermione gathered up her coat from the back room, accompanying Harry to the bus station down the block. Even with the security that the Black Magic employed, this side of London was dangerous at any hour. Once they got on the bus, all chatter about work stopped. The topics were kept shallow and safe until Harry got off at his stop, leaving Hermione with a cheery ‘Goodnight!’.  


A few stops later, Hermione stepped off the bus in front of her tiny flat. She carefully inserted her key into the lock, gingerly gave it a ¾ turn, and violently twisted the handle with all her might. After several seconds of struggling, the bolt finally slid out just enough that she could get the door open. Her building might have a poor excuse for privacy and no video cameras in the halls, but it was unlikely any thief would get past the doorknob without waking Hermione’s elderly neighbor, the landlady, and the queen herself. Not that she had anything worth stealing anyway.  


Hermione threw her satchel down on the sparse kitchenette table, “Honey, I'm home!”  


Mewing immediately sounded from her bedroom, shortly followed by sleepy orange cat.  


“Hey Crookshanks. Did you catch that mouse today?”  


The cat stared solemnly up at her from the floor, before blinking once.  


“Didn't think so. Remind me why I keep you around again?”  


Crookshanks jumped up on the table, rubbed against Hermione’s side, and began to purr loudly.  


“You're right, because you love me. Let's get you some food, buddy.”  


Hermione opened a can of cheap cat food and put it down on the table before pouring herself a bowl of cereal, sans milk. It had been almost a month since her last shopping spree. She stroked Crookshanks absent-mindedly as they both munched.  


“They want me to give private shows,” She said suddenly, “You know what that means.”  


The cat finished eating, and eyed her suspiciously.  


“No, nothing like that. There's a strict ‘No Touching’ rule for all of the clients. Well, all MY clients. Severus has always respected that, even though I know some of the girls do more on the side.”  


The cat butted his head against the underside of Hermione’s chin, letting loose a series of gravely purrs.  


“Maybe I should. Give private shows I mean, not the other thing. There's nothing to worry about, right? It's been more than 3 years since I started, I know I can handle myself. There's a guy there to monitor the situation from behind this window thing if the client gets rowdy. We need the money.”  


Hermione continued to rub the cat’s head as she finished her late night meal. Eventually, she got up and checked the answering machine, groaning at the 3 missed calls from Ron. That guy just could not take a hint. She deleted the first two right away, but figured she better listen to the last one, which was recorded less than 2 hours ago. As she pushed the playback button, the swarmy voice of Ronald Weasley filled her kitchen/living room/dining room.  


“Hey gorgeous, it's me again. It's about 11:30 right now, and I just wanted to let you know that I've been thinking about swinging by and seeing you at work soon. Maybe you'll finally take me up on that offer for a private dance? I know those women aren't enough, you need a real man. Anyway, call me.”  


Hermione shuddered, making a note in her phone to ask Severus to keep Ron off her show list for the foreseeable future. The dick had somehow convinced Harry to give him Hermione’s number after he saw one of her performances, and now he was relentlessly pursuing her. At first he had seemed like a nice guy, but now his advances were simply getting ridiculous.  


After sorting through her mail, finishing up an assignment for her class tomorrow, and submitting a paper due on Wednesday for another class, she finally headed to the shower. Even after removing most of her makeup at the end of her shift, it still took several minutes of vicious scrubbing to get the eyeliner completely wiped away. She stared at the herself on the mirror for half a minute, nothing the dark circles that the heavy stage makeup hid, and the stress lines creasing her brow. She shucked her clothes, chuckling at how comfortable she was with her nudity these days. In the past, Hermione had hardly been able to look at her own hips, let alone make strangers pay to look at them. Not all changes the industry brought were bad.  


After a shower, which had been too short for her liking, Hermione crawled into bed with only an oversized university T-shirt on. She pulled up her email, checking for the new show list put out each midnight by Severus. It was a schedule of all the performances that were worked the night before, as well as who was scheduled for the upcoming day. In such a fast paced industry, club managers like Severus Snape were rare. He kept detailed records of clienteles, as well as required the employees to have sexual history evaluations and STD checkups. Severus knew everything about every man and woman who worked for Black Magic. He had to in order to keep the club's reputation intact. Black Magic was known as the best of the best, and mostly catered to the elite. Unfortunately, the club still had to make a profit, and allowed ‘foor-fillers’ like Ron Weasley to get in on a cover charge. A hefty charge, at that. The classier clients often called in days ahead of their visit to reserve specific times, or specific girls. These shows were the best paying, and the reason that a show schedule needed to be made in the first place. If England's football team was stopping by for group lap dances, it obviously took some forplaning to arrange. On slow days, the gaps in the schedule could be filled with the odd spur-of-the-moment private show, but those days were rare. Performers were often booked weeks, or even months, in advance.  


Given her hesitance to perform privately, Hermione usually didn't have to worry about the show schedule too much. But she suspected that Harry had cooked something up with his once-in-a-blue-moon lover. The bubblegum haired menace would be the death of her. Just as she suspected, her name appeared on the schedule for tomorrow night. It was a relatively early show, at 10 pm, only half an hour into her shift. That was good, especially for her first private show. She would be fresh off the starting block, with just enough time to get settled into her Black Magic persona, but with plenty of recovery time afterwards. Her client was a woman, thank god. The schedule said ‘M. McGonagall’, and Hermione shrugged to herself. It must be a new client, but she trusted Snape’s judgement.  


After sending her confirmation email, she snuggled down into the blankets. Setting her alarm for 9 am the next morning, she was shocked that it was almost 4 already. As Crookshanks joined her on the bed, Hermione smiled sleepily at him, “It's been a manic Monday, buddy, but tomorrow will be even crazier.” She chuckled at her own bad joke.  


The cat just mewed, watching as Hermione set her Bluetooth radio to play some classic rock quietly, standing guard as the brown haired human fell deeply asleep. Eventually he would rise, and go on the prowl for that elusive mouse, but for now he was content to lay next to Hermione’s head as she finally breathed deep.


	2. Meet Minerva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments on chapter one! This Fandom is my first love, so let's meet our First Lady.

Dr. Minerva McGonagall adjusted her glasses, rearranged her black pens, rearranged her blue pens, re-read her latest report, took a sip out of her coffee cup. Anything at all to avoid leaving her office, or looking at the clock. When she inevitably glanced up at traitorous object, she let out a long suffering sigh. It was 3:56, and technically she should be hovering in the staff room waiting to punch out. Any other afternoon, her desk would be completely organized, her bus punch pass in her hand, and one heeled foot would be out the door. Today that was not the case. Just in time to remind Dr. McGonagall exactly why this day was unique, a familiar gray head popped around her door frame.  


“Are you ready, Minerva? Are you excited?”  


Minerva McGonagall massaged the bridge of her nose, “No, Albus, I cannot rightly say that I am ready nor excited.”  


Blue eyes twinkled at her brightly, adding a childlike quality to Albus’ white bearded face. The spry older man waltzed into Minerva's office and gathered up her leather briefcase without invitation. Without another word, and one sly look over his shoulder, he made for the exit of their building. Albus clearly expected Minerva to follow, and he was not disappointed.  


“Albus, I don't know if this is such a good idea,” Minerva all but chided her oldest friend.  


“Of course it is, my dear. Two young, sexy, single people like ourselves need to let loose every once in awhile. Get away from the labs and marker boards. It's just a strip club. Whatever happened to my rowdy Tabby?” Albus gave Minerva his infamous pout, which looked ridiculous on a man in his early sixties.  


She replied with a distinctly indelicate snort, “That was many MANY years ago, Albus.”  


“Oh please, you're forty seven, not one hundred and ten. If you let your hair down out of that tight bun a little more….”  


Minerva shot him her best death glare as she boarded her bus, pretending to ignore him as he shouted that he'd be over to her flat by 8. The two were supposed to be preparing a huge presentation, and were allowed to work from home for the next few days as a sort of reward for their hard work. She'd hardly left her office for a month. Albus had convinced her to spend their first night of ‘freedom’ at a popular strip club called ‘Black Magic’ that was notorious for catering to the sapphic side of London. Needless to say, Minerva was having second thoughts.  


As Minerva McGonagall turned her key, she was greeted with the plain walls of a flat that hardly looked lived in. Truly, she hated it here. She spent far more time in her office, and no matter what she did, she could never make the flat truly HERS. Regardless of how many throw rugs, potted plants, or themed oven mitts she bought, it never felt right. She wrote it off as extreme homesickness for Scotland. Shedding her work clothes, she proceeded through the living room and into her bedroom. It was only a quarter after five, but Minerva still headed straight to the bathroom and started the shower. As her pants slid off her slim hips, her dirty clothes hit the hamper, and her bathroom mirror began to fog she finally looked at herself.  


In front of Minerva McGonagall's mirror stood a middle aged woman in her simple panties and bra. Minerva let her eyes skate over her ribs and shoulders as she reached behind her to undo her bra clasps. As the garment fell, she looked away. Stepping into the shower after removing her panties, she began her regular ablutions. Soon she turned off the shower and filled the sink with water to shave her legs for the first time in what felt like forever. To be frank, she had no idea why she bothered since it was obvious that no one but her would see them. However she felt better when her legs didn't feel like the trees of the amazon rainforest rubbing against each other.  


When she slid the razor up her thigh and encountered the wild bushland that was her pubic hair she shrugged and thought, ‘Eh, what the hell,’ and tidied it up as well.  


When she finally finished drying her hair and combing it carefully through, she stumbled out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She hesitantly began to leaf through her closet, bemoaning the fact that all of her regular pants-and-blouse combos seemed far too professional for a place like Black Magic. Her dark green eyes shot careful glances at one of her few dresses, as if the little black bit of fabric would jump off the hanger and devour her. Minerva finally snatched it up, and threw it on without a bra. She stepped out to stare at herself in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the closet door. The dress hit just at her mid shin with a fitted square-necked bodice that held her breasts up rather nicely without displaying too much. At the waist, the bodice flared out into a simple skirt. All around, it was rather plain but far more youthful than her daytime wear. When her eyes landed on her long pale legs, they went directly to the few varicose veins behind her knees. She immediately began looking for a pair of black thigh highs, which she swiftly pulled up. With a pair of two inch heels, to keep her rather tall frame from becoming imposing, she was all but done. With a quick application of foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, mascara, and eyeliner, she was ready to go.  


At 7:50 she slid her credit card and almost a hundred pounds into her dress. Her phone was slipped into the pocket of her long coat as well as her flat keys. A few minutes later, Albus was at the door with a cab and a huge smile on his face. Minerva took a deep breath and strode out into the light rain.


	3. The Magic in Black Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva gets bit by lust at first sight. As always, reviews welcome.

Hermione slid into her vanity chair at ten minutes till nine. It had been another hard day, with a three hour lecture in the afternoon. Now she rushed to apply her nightly coat of concealer and foundation. Her first stage show of the night was at 9:30, a duet with another girl named Ginny, so she needed to get her ass in gear. As Hermione applied long fake lashes and pseudo-innocent eye makeup, she wrestled her mind into her stage persona. “Tawny” supposed to look innocent and sweet tonight, something that the young woman was not feeling. Some days Hermione wished she could be her stage persona permanently, but then she remembered how dangerous those thoughts could be. Work was work, and her life was her life. Her train of thought was interrupted as she slid a sheer, sleeveless white dress on over her purple and white lingerie, her eyes searched out Ginny. The redhead was over at her own vanity twisting her hair into a tight bun. Her ample chest was pushed up by a black underbust corset that was anything but innocent. The redhead went by “Flame” on the stage, which Hermione personally thought was a bit unimaginative. Flame was a dominatrix on the stage, but Ginny was shy and sweet. Not for the first time, Hermione wondered at the changes that came over the girls from the first time they strutted onto the stage. Catching Hermione’s eye, Ginny sent her a quick wink and gestured toward the stage with her chin. Hermione nodded in answer to the unspoken question; she was ready.

As the lights went down on the last performance, Hermione slipped into place on the main stage. She knelt a few feet behind the pole standing in the middle and slipped a white blindfold over her eyes. As the lights came up only part way, the first punch of the base sounded through the floor, and the show was on.

~*~

Minerva made her way over the bar. She and Albus had come in at a little after nine due to horrific traffic and miserable weather, and she was just catching the last few minutes of a performance. She found the woman to be marginally attractive, but her school marm garb was just too much. Minerva rolled her eyes at the predictability of the song choice as well. Hot for teacher indeed. The green eyed witch quickly ordered a glass of red and settled into a bar stool to brood. Albus had abandoned her in favor of heading up a floor to another stage. Something about pottery doing a strip tease? Not that that comment had made much sense. She had waved him off, already anticipating that she would be bored out of her wits and alone for the next several hours. All of a sudden, she felt exposed and foolish. What was an old woman like her doing in a place like this, for God's sake anyway?

Before Minerva McGonagall could muster up the courage to walk right out the door and grab her own damn cab, the lights went down for the next show. For a minute she was completely blind, but then the spots came up just enough to that she could see and angel, kneeling as if in supplication. The girl on the stage seemed tense, and Minerva found herself wanting to rush up there and rescue her from….something. The stoic woman had to physically relax back into her stool, which proved pointless since she was back on edge as soon as a second figure appeared. A redhead in a corset started circling the white figure on the floor. Minerva scrambled for a program, grabbing one off the counter from in front of a man she didn't know. The man shot her a dirty look, and the green eyed woman all but snarled, which shut up his protests rather quickly. She scanned for a performance that fit the description of what she was seeing and found only one option. 

“Rihanna's ‘S&M’, performed by Mistresses Flame and Tawny, remix by Snape,” She whispered quietly to herself, sorting at the name Flame. It was obvious that Flame was named for her ridiculous red hair, making the angel on the floor Tawny.

Lyrics to the remix began booming out over the crowd as Flame leant on the pole with her back to the audience.

“Na na na, come on  
Na na na, come on.”

As the repetitive words began, Flame grabbed Tawny under the chin and lifted her face all the way up. When the white clothed girl was looking in her eyes, Flame began grinding herself on the pole behind her, lowering her ass almost to the floor before bringing it back up. On her way up, Flame arched her back so that her scantily clad sex brushed against Tawny’s pink lips.

As the crowd started to show their appreciation, Minerva gripped her wine glass hard. But as the beat changed, so did Tawny’s demeanor.

“Feels so good being bad.”

Tawny surged up from the ground, whipped off her blindfold, and spun both of them around the pole, so that Flames front was now to the audience, but she was still against the pole.

“There's no way I'm turning back.”

As Tawny forced Flame onto her knees before her, it became clear who was truly in charge. Minerva hadn't thought she could be turned on more, but she proved herself wrong.

“Now the pain is for pleasure  
'Cause nothing can measure.”

Tawny bent at the waist very slowly to grab a whip off Flames belt, giving the audience a mouth watering view of translucent white panties. 

“Love is great, love is fine  
Out the box, out of line  
The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more.”

Tawny forced Flame into laying down on the floor, knees bent, with heels flat on the stage. The brunette flicked her whip lightly against Flames knees, and they opened with speed that was almost too eager to be faked. The resulting position strained Flames calves, and put her black thong on display. In a well choreographed move, Tawny turned herself to the crowd and got on her knees, her center hovering over her partners mouth. She clutched at the pole against her back, and for the first time, Minerva saw her face.

There was a moment where the entire club seemed to hold its breath, as the beat of the chorus dropped. Tawny used that moment to lean forward, and rip off the redhead's panties.

“Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it.  
Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it.”

The crowd went ballistic.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones,  
But chains and whips excite me.”

Minerva McGonagall hardly watched the logistics of the actual performance after that, even when the rest of the redhead became bared for display. Her green eyes were glued to the curves revealed as the white night dress came off. She watched greedily as Tawny’s covered center ground against the air inches from that redheaded woman's mouth. Minerva looked away quickly as a tongue flickered out to taste the white panties, her stomach flip-flopping. Somehow, out of all the things she had seen so far tonight, only that one lick disgusted her. As the extended remix ended, with Flame having just ground herself to orgasm on Tawny’s disinterested leg, Minerva's eyes followed Tawny offstage. 

“Almost enough to turn a man,” came a voice from beside her. Startled, she turned to the form of Albus, how had apparently sidled up to her unnoticed, “Turn a man straight, that is. She's deeply erotic.”

Minerva glanced away as the lights came down for the next show, “Yes, she certainly is.”

~*~

As soon as they were safely backstage, Hermione shoved Ginny hard in her chest. 

“What the FUCK was that?!” She hissed, obviously irate.

Ginny, for her part, looked completely confused, “What do you mean?”

Hermione stalked towards her, finger jabbing her roughly in the sternum, “Don't ever add a move like that into the routine again, especially one where you touch me.”

“What….oh. I licked you. I'm sorry ‘Mione, I just got caught up in the moment. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Having heard the commotion, Harry rushed over and lead Hermione away, flashing a look to Ginny that was somehow both sympathetic and scathing, “Baby doll don't fret, she didn't mean any harm. Besides, don't you have a show to get ready for?” 

Deflated, Hermione rushed off to prepare herself for M. McGonagall.


	4. Dangerous Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva gets her money's worth, and maybe a little more.

Minerva was slowly drinking the last of her wine as Albus watched her very closely. She was going to need to be at least a little tipsy to deal with her confusing rush of arousal, as well as with her companion.

“I reserved you a private dance session, Minerva.”

The dark haired woman almost choked on her mouthful of wine, “You did WHAT?!”

“I reserved you a session. I already paid in advance, so you needn’t worry about that.”

For a beat, Minerva was suspiciously silent, “You reserved me a session.”

“Yes.”

“With a woman.”

“Yes.”

Albus was pleased that Minerva seemed to be taking this so very well. At least he was, until his friend turned to him and he saw the murder in her eyes.

“Now now now, Tabby!” the man took several steps away to hopefully avoid the wineglass that the woman seemed poised to throw at his head, “What a coincidence that it should be reserved with that ravishing creature we just saw perform. Tawny, wasn’t it?”

Albus squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands up in front of his face, praying that she didn't throw the glass and merely hit him with her hand. When no strike came, he peeked around his hands to see Minerva’s mouth was open and she looked dazed.

“My session….is with Tawny?”

The white haired man smirked, recognizing the flush rising in his dear friend's cheeks, “Why yes my dear. And it’s scheduled in just a few minutes. Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting, would we?”

Minerva nodded dumbly and Albus pointed her in the direction of the nearest club worker before slinking back off to wherever he had emerged from in the first place, muttering something about a fellow named Draco and a tongue that could speak the language of ‘the snake’. Minerva decided she absolutely did not want to know what that cryptic message meant. 

After asking the nice young gentleman in platform heels behind the bar where to go, Minerva headed to one of the private show rooms. As she crossed the floor, weaving between the large stage and the little side platforms, Minerva took in the crowd. With surprise, she realized that almost all the clients on this floor were women. The only men she could see at all were those making their way from upstairs to the front door, or the ones seated at the bar, and they hardly spared a glance at the naked women all around them. Minerva reminded herself that this was a gay strip club and it was okay for her to show her attraction to the people around her. The women ogling the performers were of all different ages, body types, and nationalities but no one here would judge her. Over by the corner there even seemed to be a bridal party, undoubtedly here as a joke. As Minerva watched, a woman who was in a t-shirt that announced ‘I’m the Bride!’, began a passionate make out session with one of her bridesmaids. From the look on the faces of the rest of the party, neither were drunk enough to warrant such action. Minerva chuckled to herself. Someone would have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow. 

A shoulder bumped into hers, and the wayward scientist shot a glance at the crowd around the last little stage between her and her destination. On it danced a very masculine young woman, if Minerva had to guess her age it would be in her late thirties. The woman had a sharp nose and calculating eyes that were both unnerving and unnervingly sultry. As if on cue, the woman caught Minerva's eye and bent over at the waist to beckon to her. For the the first time, Minerva realized that the hawkish woman was entirely nude, sharp hips and light abs grinding to the beat of the pulsing music. Minerva looked away, uncomfortable. She walked quickly to her private room and closed the door behind her as the bartender had instructed. She glanced at her watch, she was just about on time.

~*~

Rolanda Hooch stepped down from her platform, about to go after the mesmerizing woman who just ran from her. She had watched the woman step into a private showroom, and intended on joining her inside. Perhaps that's what the woman wanted? Rolanda to follow her? 

Just as she took her first step forward, that goodie two shoes Hermione Granger went into the same performance room. Prancing around with her faux innocence just because Severus was fucking her best mate. ‘Damn that insufferable swot’.

Rolanda just scowled and devoted her attention back to the crowd of women attempting to find somewhere on her body to stick money.

 

~*~

 

Minerva entered the small room and immediately took stock of the grey-black walls and purple sectional style couch that dominated the space. While automatically suspicious of the cleanliness of said couch, she inspected it closer and saw no obvious bodily fluids. Not that she was sure exactly what she was looking for. The tall woman nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the door open and close quickly behind her. 

She turned quickly to greet her...date? Performer? Lap dance artist? “Hello.”

The smaller, and younger Minerva noted with a grimace, woman smiled brightly at her and visibly relaxed, “Oh, hi! Please sit and make yourself comfortable…..?”

“Minerva.” The tall woman perched more than sat in the precise middle of the sectional. She took a good look at the young woman, noting the white bra that the performer hadn't changed out if since her last show. It was now paired with a short purple skirt and Minerva found herself wondering if the girl was wearing the same panties as well.

“Okay, Minerva, you can call me Tawny. Is this your first time with something like this?”

Minerva turned crimson, “Yes.”

Tawny simply smiled, “It's okay. Just relax and let me take care of you.”

Minerva fixed her green eyes on the brown ones before her, finally relaxing herself back onto the couch behind her. She watched as Tawny pulled a remote from seemingly nowhere. 

“There's only one rule, Minerva. No touching unless I direct you,” Tawny pushed play on the remote as she smoothly straddled Minerva’s lap. All of the air in the dark haired woman's body left in one breath.

As the first notes came over the speaker system, Minerva didn't recognize the song. Tawny began to slowly grind her hips, which pushed her chest outwards toward Minerva’s face and suddenly very dry mouth. 

“Uh all these raindrops falling down my window  
Got me wishing that we did the things we didn't do”

Tawny began to run her hands up and down her sides, slightly cupping her own breasts slightly on every pass. Minerva found she couldn’t look away from the golden tan skin of the younger woman's throat.

“And right now I wanna sex you baby  
Has anybody sexed you lately”

Tawny suddenly gripped Minerva’s hands and placed them on the performers grinding hips.

“Got all these hoes calling asking me to come through (Asking me to come through)  
What they don't know is all they make me do is call you (you)”

Minerva jumped as small hands began to run up and down her stocking clad thighs, bunching her dress father up. She looked up into Tawny’s face and the younger woman just smiled at her.

“And ask if I can sex you lady, oh  
Can we do it til we both look crazy, crazy”

Finally, the older woman allowed herself to relax and start enjoying herself. Even more so when Tawny touched her hands again and urged them to move up and down her sides. 

“Baby you know I'm from Atlanta and they raise me like a killer  
Raise me like a villain  
Raise me like a pimp”

Tawny reached behind her to remove her bra, shoulders relaxing as the sharp underside ceased stabbing her in the ribs. Minerva watched entranced as plump breasts were released. A bead of sweat formed on her temple.

“And there's a lot of girls out here  
And I could have all of them  
But I don't want none of them  
I only want one of them”

Tawny cried out in delight (or maybe it was Hermione, she was enjoying this so much that the line was blurring) as Minerva tentatively brushed her palms over rock hard nipples for the first time. 

“All I wanna do is sex you baby  
I wanna know have you had any good sex lately”

In the back of her mind, Minerva realized that this was dangerous. She was more than just aroused by this young woman, she was attracted to her. But as Tawny continued to rake blunt fingernails up and down her inner thigh, she found that she didn't care. 

“All these rain drops falling on my window  
All the rain keeps falling and these hoes keep calling  
All these rain drops falling on my window  
Got me looking for my phone  
I wanna know can I sex you baby  
And have you had any good sex lately lately lately”

Minerva looked up at this girl, and suddenly remembered that this was just a performance. To “Tawny” this was just a job, and she was just one in a long string of naive clients. Suddenly, Minera felt like an idiot, and while her hands might be in the moment, her mind was miles away.

“Have you had any good sex lately  
Sex, have you had it  
Sex, good sex  
Sex, have you had it  
All these rain drops falling out my window”

Eventually the song ended and Tawny let her full weight fall on the lap underneath her, a genuine smile on her face. That smile faded as Minerva started to squirm as if she was ready to get up, so the performer stood. The older woman got awkwardly and would hardly make eye contact, and her cheeks were back to flaming red. 

“Thank you, Tawny,” she said… starting to pull something out of her dress.

“Hermione.” 

The taller woman froze, “I beg your pardon?” 

“My actual name is Hermione,” the young performer was still completely naked from the waist up, but held out her hand to Minerva as though they were two women meeting in a public place for the first time. As if Minerva didn’t have the exact shade of her nipples forever ingrained in her mind.

The two shook hands in a dingy room in which they had just had not-sex, with Hermione looking at Minerva with a soft expression. If it had been possible, Minerva would have blushed even harder at the ridiculous situation. 

“Here,” Minerva thrust a wad of cash at a startled Hermione, “I don't really know how any of this works, but I want you to have this.”

Hermione just looked down at the bills for a moment and Minerva used her shock to scurry past her and back into the main area of the club. Suddenly the lights made her head spin and the sweat she could smell on patrons bodies made her stomach roll. 

She found Albus very near where she had left him, and he seemed to be in a discussion with the bartender about where a novice drag queen could buy a quality wig. Minerva grabbed his arm and he politely excused himself to speak with her.

“Tabby, is everything alright?”

Minerva shook her head, “Can we go? I’ll tell you about it in the cab.”

Albus nodded solemnly and the two gathered up their things before calling a cab and stepping out into the night air. The hairs on the back of Minerva’s neck stood up as she felt a certain pair of brown eyes follow her out the door, and she felt like a coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to my readers and especially the ones who leave comments. This update is dedicated to all of you <3


	5. Tainted Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, this chapter contains some brief, non-graphic sexual assault. The section is blocked off by a ~*~ before and after, so you can just skip it if it makes you uncomfortable in any way.

Minerva looked around the dark club, but there didn’t seem to be any other patrons on the floor. As a matter of fact, there weren’t any girls on the stage either. In the back of her mind, she registered that there was something very wrong with this setting. The details of the building were unfocused and her eyes didn’t seem to want to concentrate on them. Suddenly, she was sitting on the purple couch in the back room. And Hermi-- TAWNY entered much as she had two weeks ago. But this time, she was wearing…..was that a turtleneck?! Minerva reached to remove it but every time one long sleeved shirt came off there was another one underneath and suddenly Hermione wasn’t Hermione. The young woman had morphed into Albus in an awful wig and stilettos and he opened his mouth to kiss her---

Minerva McGonagall woke up to the sound of her alarm screeching that it was time to get out of bed. In fact, the alarm face showed that she had already hit snooze at least twice already. She wiped her face on the edge of her pajama top. This last dream was certainly not the only one she had had revolving around the beautiful performer she had met (if one could call it that but then again they did shake hands) exactly 11 days ago. It was now Saturday morning, and Minerva’s hope that the brunette would leave her mind had drastically dwindled.

As she got up to take a shower, and she cursed herself under the hot spray of water. Why was she so infatuated with this...this GIRL? It must just be a simple fascination with the girls’ employment or proclivities. And if Minerva has woken up with drenched panties for the last several nights, she was unwilling to acknowledge that it had anything to do with the performer.

Once she had washed, Minerva considered possible solutions while dressing for the day. It was obvious that her….fascination….with Hermione wasn’t going to go away easily. The older woman really had two options: to go on ignoring the issue and hope this connection faded, or she could confront the problem head on and sate her curiosity. In a completely professional sense of course. 

Minerva had convinced herself to do what she knew she was going to do since the moment she had stepped out of that club. She had to go back. 

~*~

The dark haired woman swirled her Maker’s Mark and pretended that she wasn’t entirely out of her comfort zone. Before coming down to Black Magic, Minerva had convinced herself that this was the best course of action. Perhaps if she saw Hermione again, and maybe even spoke to her, then she could get to the root of her fascination and….attraction….to the other woman. 

Unfortunately, in order to resolve any of her conflicted feelings, Minerva first had to approach Hermione. Which she was finding a tad difficult. In fact, it had been over an hour and the bartender had already served her two neat bourbons. It was the same gentleman from her earlier visit, however this time he appeared to be wearing knee-high leather boots. Minerva actually thought he pulled them off better than any woman, and she tipped her glass to his sense of style. 

Thinking of women brought Minerva’s thoughts back around to Hermione, who she had seen working one of the smaller platforms when she first arrived, but who was now serving drinks to already drunken customers. ‘At least,’ Minerva thought to herself, ‘she’s wearing more clothes than last time I saw her.’

Minerva actually let out a sigh while perusing Hermione’s outfit. The short leather skirt was paired with a dark red leather vest that showed off her midriff as well as most of her cleavage. On her head, the performer wore a black fedora, and the overall effect was of a skimpy gentlewoman. Minerva chose not to dwell on why that look in particular set her core ablaze and instead took another swallow of her whiskey. 

“You’ve been watching her for a long time so I guess I should ask….are you Minerva?”

The woman in question turned in surprise to the bartender who was looking at her expectantly, “Excuse me?”

“Hermione told me to look out for a woman who came in her last Tuesday for a private show. Said her name was Minerva. Is that you?”

Minerva turned her full attention to the young man, “Yes it is. Minerva McGonagall. And you are….?”

“Oh! I’m Neville. Neville Longbottom. I’m friends with Hermione. You know, she’s been waiting to see if you’d come around again,” Neville winked one of his sultrily, however tastefully, shadowed eyes. 

Minerva all but froze. Hermione had remembered her? And wanted to speak to her? Suddenly overwhelmed, she hastily paid for her drink and made for the side entrance. She berated herself for even coming here in the first place. She would get some fresh air, calm her heart rate, and call for a cab. Those bourbons had gone straight to her head.

 

~*~

“Hey Hermione!”

The brunette looked up from the table she was clearing. Weaving through the crowd of inebriated women, and striking his stiletto boots like he owned the floor, was Neville. 

“What’s up, Nev? Shouldn’t you be at the bar?”

The ordinarily shy young man tossed his head, and his gloriously styled brunette hair, “Just thought you might want to know that your lady, Minerva? She’s been here for the last hour at the bar. But when I mentioned you she got all pale and bolted out the east door. If you hurry you can still catch her.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide with excitement, “Thank you, Nev, I owe you one!”

The young man just laughed and tossed her his trench coat from behind the bar, “Take this tiger! It’s little wet out there.”

She threw it on over her work clothes and dashed out the door after the woman she couldn’t get out of her head

 

~*~

As the door to the alley banged open, Hermione spotted a figure leaning against the neighboring wall. She took a giddy step forward with a hand outstretched.

“I can’t believe you came back. I’ve been waiting to see you again and I had begun to worry….” but the happy smile died from her face as the figure turned around.

“Hello, Herm-i-onie,” the figure drawled. As they stepped toward her, Hermione recognized the re hair of one Ronald Weasley. 

“Oh. Ron. It’s you,” the man leered at her as he continued to approach. 

“Of course. Were you expecting….someone else?”

Hermione chuckled nervously, and dug her hands into the pockets of the coat, realizing that this coat wasn’t hers. There was no mace in the deep pockets, and certainly not a cell phone for her to call for help. 

“I’m….I’m just out here to grab a bit of air. Then I need to...to finish my shift,” Hermione hadn’t realized she’d been retreating until her back hit the metal door behind her. A metal door that had locked behind her as she left Black Magic.

Ronald grinned, “Oh one of us will be finishing something….but it won’t be you. Isn't it a nice coincidence that I find you out here right as I step out of the bar to light up a smoke. Must be fate.” 

Now Hermione could smell his breath, and she could tell he was far past drunk. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for a way to escape past him but his body was blocking the only way out of the alley. As he reached out a hand to rip at the coat she was wearing, Hermione closed her eyes against the rain and let out the most blood curdling scream of her life. 

 

~*~

 

Minerva heard a scream come from down the alley behind her. For a moment, she thought that she had imagined it, but she turned on her heel to investigate. Perhaps someone had gotten hurt and needed her assistance. She hadn’t seen anyone else in the alley when she had been down it moments before.

As she approached the door she had come out of, she saw two figured locked in an embrace, or perhaps…..was that a struggle? Minerva reached into her clutch for the mace she always kept on her person when going out at night. One never knew.

Upon further inspection, she could see that a man had a smaller figure pinned to the wall and was attempting to divest them of clothes. Minerva couldn’t tell if the victim was man or woman, but that didn’t matter.

Acting out of sheer impulse, Minerva braced her weight and grabbed onto the shoulder of the attacker and shouted, “HEY!”

The assaulter was put off balance and stumbled a few steps. Once he was a safe distance away, Minerva sprayed him with the mace, directly into his eyes. The man screamed and cursed, rubbing his eyes frantically which only served to make his pain worsen. Minerva then grabbed her cellphone, intending to call the authorities.

“No, wait. Please don’t call the police.”

Minerva looked down at the figure huddled on the ground. With the adrenaline of macing a man fading, the dark haired woman could finally get a clear look at the victim. 

“Her...Hermione? Is that you?”

Hermione looked up at the woman who came to her rescue, “Minerva?”

The older woman knelt next to the performer, careful to keep an eye on the writhing figure clutching his eyes. 

“May I use your phone? I know who can take care of him. I know him,” Hermione asked, and Minerva hesitantly handed her phone over, still not convinced that the authorities shouldn’t become involved. 

Hermione dialed the number of the man who always knew what to do: Severus Snape. She explained a shortened version of what had happened through tears and all but immediately there were two bouncers charging out the door to collect the limp and moaning body of Ron, as well as Harry’s pink head squeezing through the door.

“OH MY GOD! Mione! Are you alright?!” 

“I will be,” Hermione looked pointedly at Minerva, who stood shuffling her feet, “Madame McGonagall came to my rescue.”

Harry ushered the two of them back inside Black Magic, leading them both to a comfortable lounge area that the performers used to take breaks. To Minerva’s eyes, it looked surprisingly normal. The carpet was a dark brown and the couch was sandy colored. There was a small candy bar vending machine buzzing in the corner by kitchen space with a small coffee pot. To her surprise, there was a baby bottle drying on the counter-top as well as a copy of ‘A Clockwork Orange’.

Minerva blinked and forced herself to focus on the woman in front of her. Harry had left the two of them ‘alone to work a few things out, yeah?’

Hermione was running her hands nervously through her hair and stealing sidelong looks at the the tall woman who stood before the couch with her arms crossed. The brunette herself was settled on the couch with Neville’s coat closed tightly around her. 

“I..umm..I just wanted to thank you. For saving me. A lot of people wouldn’t have. It was….good of you,” Hermione took a fortifying breath. It wasn’t just the attack making her anxious. It was also this woman. 

Minerva blinked again, “Of course, Hermione.”

Hermione tugged her fingers, “Would you….would you like to….God I had this all planned out before tonight,” she took another deep breath, “Minerva, would you like to get a cup of coffee some time?”

Of all the things Hermione might have possibly said, this was the one that Minerva never could have imagined. 

Minerva’s thoughts were clouded with exactly how young Hermione must be. How very...feminine. How very old Minerva herself was. Over forty years old. Certainly no good for this young, beautiful thing in front of her.

“But….but I could never even...with a...with a woman who...but you must understand,” Minerva tried to stammer out all her thoughts at once, shifting away from disappointed brown eyes. 

After a few seconds, those same eyes hardened, “I see. Understood loud and clear. You could never be with woman with a job like mine? Of course because I work at a stripper I must be dirty and so very far below you. Defenseless and just asking to be molested or attacked or USED. Of course. And to think….”

Now Minerva was confused and slightly aghast. That wasn’t really what she had meant at all. But now Hermione had stood, and with one last hurt look over her shoulder, she was out the door and had disappeared. Minerva went looking for her, but the young woman was nowhere to be found. Eventually Minerva left, almost wishing she hadn’t come tonight at all. But at the same time she was so very happy she was able to prevent something horrible, and wondering what fate had befallen Mr. Weasely. 

Her dreams were plagued with a brown haired young woman in an endless tunnel. She was screaming and crying out for Minerva, bust she no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t reach her. No rest was found that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I live off of comments and I love to hear from people who like (or even hate) this fic


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